Remembrance
by Shadow Wasserson
Summary: The life and lessons of the girl called Smellerbee.


Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender is not mine. Not even a little. It belongs to Viacom and Nickelodeon, and was created by Bryan DiMartino and Mike Konietzko.

A/N: A rather dark take on this character, so warning for angst.

This is kind of an experiment in tense and stream-of-consciousness storytelling style. Let me know if it works out.

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**Remembrance**

She remembers her childhood. She supposed she must have had a name and parents, but she lost both early on, exchanged for _Hey you!_ and the company of nameless slaves and overseers. Such a thing was hardly unusual. Likely, her parents had simply been sold to a different mine not long after her birth.

She remembers the packs of half-wild children, scrambling in the dust, united by their common need for food and shelter. Their sex was indeterminate, indiscriminate; everyone looked the same without water for washing and no knives to cut hair.

She remembers the begging, learning how to gauge the moods of the adult slaves. It was an important skill, since you could never tell if you were going to receive food or blows.

She remembers the hunger, gladly picking through garbage, wringing the necks of the elephant-rats and giving them to the adults for cooking. After all, you live with what you get.

She remembers learning to crawl into tunnels as soon as she could walk, to sort coal as soon as she could take orders, to swing a shovel as soon as she could lift it. The stark sun left, traded for endless tunnels and choking blackness. At least the work brought a guaranteed supply of food.

She remembers the taste of coal dust and the feeling of grit between her teeth.

She remembers when she first learned what it was to be female. She was young, so young, but she drew the eyes of the warden anyway. She was given water to bathe and extra food, so she kept on, but when she was alone in the tunnels she scratched at the places where he touched her until they were raw.

She remembers wanting to be gone.

She remembers the day when the swing of a shovel turned into the swing of a knife, the scream and dark blood, the fingers that dared to come near lying like curled worms on the floor. She remembers the strangeness of it, the numbness of it. She remembers thinking she should run.

She remembers the dark nights and too-bright days, on some road with no one going nowhere. She had no skills or knowledge but she could crawl through tunnels and climb and that was enough to live by if you weren't too picky.

She remembers asking herself if freedom was worth it, and she remembers when she got the answer. It came not in the form of an adult (because you could never be sure if you were going to receive food or blows), but of a boy not too much older than herself, leading a pack of half-wild children and looking for a place to live. It was pure chance, really (they were both stealing from the same campsite), and she joined not so much because she was drawn to him as because she knew you could get more food in a group than you could alone.

She remembers the name they made for her when she couldn't name herself. It was just nonsense, really, didn't mean anything, but what did it matter? It was a name, and soon enough it was _her_.

She remembers how their skills complemented each other, and though none of them knew anything really together they could take whatever they wanted. One had the strength of a rhino and one could shoot arrows as true as any Yu Yan and one could crawl through tight spaces and one could wield swords and convince a group of dark-eyed orphans to get up and rob a caravan so long as it was draped in red. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, but it worked.

She remembers when it began to change, when the ideas started to come. Remembers the first gleamings of purpose. Remembers: _The Fire Nation doesn't deserve any more mercy than what they give. If anyone here has ever had mercy from the Fire Nation, say so now._ The answer was obvious once they came upon it.

She remembers the lessons they learned together, taught without teachers.

How to say without speaking and hear without listening.

How to save a life. How to take a life.

How to build a home out of ashes.

She remembers the first time they touched her, just a friendly pat on the shoulder, and she didn't flinch or snap. It was okay. Really. It was okay.

She remembers how good it was to see the enemy fear her, to imagine that they were the ones from the mines and smile when her leader hurt them. Smile and do her part, turning their misfortune into her gain.

She remembers settling in at the end of the day and feeling good, feeling _powerful_, feeling comfortable in her own skin. She could do anything: paint her face like a warrior, get drunk, sleep all day, cut her hair, take what she wanted, wear anything, live in the trees, pretend to fly.

She remembers how it was nice to laugh and cheer and listen to his wonderful plans and share his dreams and huddle close with the others she could feel their hearts beat against her body and she could pretend they really were all one mind, one form. She knew for certain then that she was a part of something so much bigger, all thanks to him.

She remembers the new emotions, crashing down fast or bubbling up slow.

Remembers gratitude.

Remembers respect.

Remembers admiration.

Remembers devotion.

Remembers love…

She remembers the culmination of their efforts, and how spectacularly it failed. Remembers the uncertainty written on his face, and realizing that it was new to him too. Remembers when the lie became truth and the forest really did burn and were they really just playing at war this whole time?

She remembers staying with him anyway.

She remembers the journey was long and rough with too much time for thinking and not enough for acting and a tension right below the surface that made her start wondering again if it was worth it. But after all, you get more in groups than you can alone, so she was glad to have her two companions. Did they let girls in the army with the men? She hoped so.

She remembers how easy it was to fit back into old patterns, but those ended badly so it's best to forget them and start over, isn't it?

She remembers how awful it was to be right. When he's gone there's nothing to do but keep going, keep your head above the surface and breathe. Her companion has no words but she listens anyway.

She remembers the way the light seemed to clear when she saw him and he looked just like she remembered and she was embracing him before she could stop herself and covered it by speaking too loudly and she was lucky she didn't blush because that would have been embarrassing.

She remembers realizing that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

She remembers how fixing it was worse.

She remembers the twist in her gut and the way all the breath left her lungs when she saw him lying on the ground like that, remembers _this can't be happening_ even though she knew now that he was human and not invincible this just wasn't supposed to happen.

She remembers the tears, how they were hot and burned like fire, and how the fury knotted with the despair in her gut so when their enemies found them she charged at them without thinking.

She remembers the coldness of the shackles, and how her companion kept firing until he ran out of arrows, and how her leader groaned when they tried to drag him upright.

She remembers: _Leave that one. He won't make it._ and how she screamed because she had already chosen and they were going to stick together like two limbs on one body but it didn't mean anything to them and didn't they know anything about _loyalty_?

She remembers the cell, how it was so empty and quiet.

She remembers (can it be a memory if it's happening now?) the tightness of her binds, her lips moving as she confesses, confesses, confesses, tells everything to the light as it goes around and around and around….

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End file.
